Chasing the Quake
by Moony the Beast
Summary: After James saves a woman from terrorist abduction, the two fight across the globe to recover her taken friend. Takes place after Quantom of Solace.
1. Lillian

**A/N: **This takes place after Quantum of Solace. I'd like to think that James has lightened up a bit after realizing Vesper loved him.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own James Bond or anything associated with him.

* * *

The first time he saw her, he was trailing the man MI6 simply called Quake. Quake was a notorious international terrorist, and Bond needed to find out why he was in London.

It was February, and snow swirled lightly through the air. Downtown was bustling. Quake walked quickly and with a purpose. James frowned. Not a good sign. Quake was obviously after somebody. He quickened his pace, careful to stay far behind the man.

The light wintry breeze had ruffled his short, blond hair. He was bundled in a black coat that did not seem to be warm enough, despite the fact that he had bought it in Russia. His phone vibrated in his pocket. James pulled it out and glanced at the screen. MI6 had transferred tracking information to the GPS in case he lost sight of the terrorist. The phone slid back into his pocket.

Quake had stopped in front of a restaurant and was talking on a cell phone now. James slipped between several people and slowly, with his head down, made his way closer. He was still about 30 feet away from Quake when an expensive black sports car pulled up in front of the restaurant. The man sitting in the passenger seat jumped out and spoke rapidly to Quake. The door to the restaurant opened.

An attractive young man walked outside, and he held the door, smiling, at the woman behind him. His face was smooth, and he had light brown hair that was styled so the bangs were flicked upward out of his face. His dark blue eyes followed his friend as she exited behind him. James' light blue eyes followed her as well. She was lovely, with long, wavy golden hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail. A few short strands of hair fell around her face. Her brown eyes met her friends, and they laughed. They were both dressed warmly; she was wearing a black pea coat and a scarf with skinny jeans. She was the only person James noticed.

The couple made it ten feet from the door before Quake and his partner approached them. James froze, watching as their eyes widened with fear. He guessed that the two terrorists were pointing handguns at them. Quake gestured to the car. The young man slowly walked up to it, Quake following him with the gun. They both got into the car, and the moment the doors closed, the tires screeched against the snowy road. James sprinted to the man and the girl as the car flew down the street. He pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety.

He reached them, and the man seemed to snarl silently. "You have a friend," he growled at her. She panicked.

"I don't know him!"

The gun was visibly pointed at her now. James brandished his and pointed it at the man's forehead. "Let her go." The man's head jerked towards him, and the woman exploded into action.

In about five seconds she bested Quake's partner. The gun was still pointed at her, and she brought both of her hands up before slamming them both into either side of his wrist. One hit the trigger finger, and drove the gun towards him. James grimaced as the man's finger bone snapped. She shoved his gun holding hand into his chest, daring him to pull the trigger and shoot himself. Then she dealt a painful side kick to the gut that sent him flying. As the terrorist hit the ground, James shoved the gun back into his coat, grabbed her arm, and ran.

They sprinted down the sidewalk, dodging people. Once she had recovered, the young woman was able to easily keep up with him. "You can let go of my arm now!" she yelled. His fingers loosened, and she shook off his hand.

"This way!" he shouted at her, and took a sharp left turn down an alley. She sprinted after him, and he continued to fly between buildings. James wondered if the man had gotten up yet. He doubted it; the young woman seemed to know how to knock people around.

After running for about five minutes, they were almost to his car. His legs were beginning to ache, and his breathing was more rapid. His chest burned. He could hear the girl running along behind him beginning to gasp for air. "Just a little farther," he gasped behind him. She seemed to increase her pace.

He skidded to a stop in the snow, and the woman slammed into him from behind. "Sorry!" she wheezed. James grabbed her hand and starting jogging. They were behind a large office building to the right, and a chain link fence hemmed them in on the left. James led her to the edge of the building to a small parking garage. He vaulted over the short wall, and she followed. He continued to run towards the only vehicle parked on the level: his car. James whipped out his keys and unlocked the car with the remote. He flung open the passenger door for her, then jumped over the hood and opened his door. He slid in quickly and buckled up.

"Connect me to M," he barked as the seat belt clicked. He reached over and slammed his door shut.

"Connecting," the car replied coolly. He shoved the key into the ignition and twisted it. The engine roared to life, and he stomped on the gas. The woman watched him with an interested look on her face. Their eyes met and his mouth twitched into a smile. His gaze flicked back to the road, and he whipped sharply out of the parking garage. The car raced down the street.

"Bond, where are you?" M's voice demanded from the control console of his car.

"Driving."

"What about Quake?"

"I need you to track license plate number HIN 7380 through my car," he replied. Silence. He glanced at his passenger again. She was still watching him.

"Who are you?" she whispered. Her lovely face looked pained. He smiled.

"Bond. James Bond."


	2. The Chase Begins

**A/N:** This chapter isn't super exciting.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own James Bond, blah blah blah.

* * *

"Alright Bond, your GPS will now track that car."

"Good, because Quake's in it, along with a man that he abducted a few minutes ago."

M was silent for a few seconds. James could feel the woman staring at him. "His name is Eric Peterson. He is a computer software engineer," she whispered.

"His name is Eric Peterson, and he is a computer software engineer," James echoed. He could hear M order Tanner to look up the man. "I have his..." He glanced at her. "friend with me."

"Lillian Reynolds," she whispered.

"Lillian Reynolds," he echoed again. M said nothing. "You should look her up too." He could feel Lillian glare at him.

"Bond, watch yourself," M replied. James smiled and said nothing, letting her know that he understood. "Anyway, that car is headed to the airport, and your Peterson looks clean, as well as Reynolds. I suggest you drop her off before you reach them."

"No," Lillian snapped, sitting up.

"I agree, we don't have time. Quake's men could target her," James added. She sat back in her chair, watching the road fly out from under the car as they drove recklessly through the city.

"Well then, you know what to do when you arrive."

"Connection terminated," the car informed them. James focused on driving. He swerved often to avoid cars that were too slow. The speedometer was registering around 100 kilometers per hour.

"Thank you," Lillian murmured. James stared straight ahead.

"You proved yourself when you bested Quake's partner," he replied. She shifted in her seat.

"Who is Quake? Who is M? What are we doing?" she asked, voice becoming despaired.

"Quake is an international terrorist. Why he decided to grab your friend, I don't know. It was probably something to do with his software engineering abilities. M is my boss. I am a member of MI6, number 007. And we are currently speeding through London after your friend."

"He's my boyfriend really," she grumbled. "And why should I trust you? Why did you drag me along? Why are you even bothering to answer my questions?"

"Do you really have any options as to whether to trust me or not? M already told us both that you are clean. And I dragged you along so that they wouldn't send more men after you. I'm sure they have everyone Eric is associated with flagged. And your questions need to be answered. You need to know, whether M thinks so or not."

"She's your boss."

"She knows me."

"Oh? And what is there to know?"

James smirked. "I'm not going to tell you. _That _you can find out on your own. And what is there to know about you?"

Lillian said nothing. He cleared his throat. "Search Lillian Reynolds."

"Searching," replied the car. Lillian's mouth dropped.

"What are you doing?!" she yelled.

"I need to know. It's my job," he said simply. He was smirking.

"Lillian Reynolds. 26 years old. Accountant for Averson Incorporated. Black belt in karate. Two siblings, Alexander and Jennifer. Middle child. Parents are Jacob and Arlene. In a relationship with Eric Peterson. Dating for one year. Likes it when he calls her 'Lil' or 'Lils,' but hates it when others call her by those names. Devout churchgoer. Enjoys water skiing, broomball, an occasional jog, and reading. Attended-"

"Please stop," he demanded. The car went silent. "Activate GPS," he said after two minutes had passed. The GPS blinked to life. "Track the car," he told it. A red dot appeared, and James focused on its location. They were gaining rapidly on the car. Lillian stared at the screen. "This might get ugly," he informed her. She glared at him. He jerked the wheel the left, narrowly avoiding being hit by oncoming traffic. Lillian slammed into the door. The street they were traveling down now was less busy.

James eyed the GPS. They were closer to the car. He pressed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. "There!" Lillian shouted, and pointed through the windshield. The car was now in sight. "Do you do this a lot?" she asked him.

"All the time." She rubbed her face with her hands. Their car gained on Quake's quickly, and James steered into the other lane to pull up next to the enemy. "If I were you, I would lean my chair back as far as it will go," he ordered. Lillian stared at him, and then did as he said. She was almost laying down. James rolled down both front-seat windows, letting wind rip through the car. A bullet whistled through Lillian's window seconds later. James leaned forward and let it exit through his window. He flicked a button, and both windows closed. He jerked the wheel to the right and smashed into the other car. Lillian was frozen, looking horrified.

James kept twisting the wheel, trying to shove the terrorists off the road. The other car began to accelerate and pulled free. James swore silently and pushed his car faster. He glanced at Lillian. "Sit up now." She did. "Roll down you window. Then I need you to open the glove box," he directed. The terrorists suddenly veered to the right, taking a strange side road. James gritted his teeth, and yanked his car to follow. Lillian shrieked as the car slid sideways down the street, the snow coating the road slick. James angrily pressed the gas pedal, and the car recovered, shooting down the side street.

With shaking hands, Lillian managed to open the glove box. She did not like what she saw.

"Take out the gun," James snapped. She stared at him.

"No!"

"Take it out!"

"I'm not shooting anyone!" she yelled.

"Shoot at a tire!" He shouted back. He could see her boil over with anger, but she snatched the gun up anyway. Leaning out of the window, she carefully aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Quake's car spun out of control as the tire blew open. James slammed on the brakes as the other car did several donuts. He was about to switch gears to park when the terrorists' car stopped sliding and drove off again. James punched on the gas, and began to recklessly drive after Quake. Lillian rolled up her window and dropped the gun in glove box before moaning and plopping her head in her hands.

James sighed and turned on to a main road. He cut off several cars and blew threw seven stoplights. He made a sharp left turn, and nearly collided with an enormous SUV. Lillian looked sick.

"You are a horrible driver," she informed him icily as they pulled into the airport parking lot at 170 kilometers per hour. He said nothing, but slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding into a parking space.

"We need to figure out where they're headed before they reach their plane. And... can you disguise yourself at all?"

Lillian opened her purse. James was surprised; he hadn't seen her bring it along. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and a hand mirror. She carefully applied it, her lips bright red when she finished. She dropped that back in her purse and pulled out an assortment of eyeshadow. She rubbed her brush through a bright green shade, and smudged it onto her eyelids.

"Better?"

"Perfect. Let's go."

They exited the car in unison, and James took her arm in his and led her through the parking lot.


	3. The Airport

**A/N: **My apologies, it's been a year or so since I've been in an airport, and I've never been to the one in London.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own James Bond or M or any of their known associates.

* * *

Lillian didn't complain as James led her around icy patches in the parking lot. Once inside, however, she quickly tried to yank her arm away. He gazed at her smugly when she realized that his grip was too strong. He dragged her to the counter where he began speaking with the bag man.

"Hello sir, do you need to pick up a boarding pass and load bags?" the man asked, peering behind them to look for luggage.

"I need access to some information," James replied. Lillian was struck by his iciness now that he wasn't talking to her. He showed absolutely no emotion.

"What kind of information, sir?"

James pulled out his wallet and showed the man something that looked like an ID card. His eyes widened. "My apologies, 007," he murmured. "Right this way." He hastily opened a door in the counter and ushered them back. Then he walked quickly to a door farther down. He held it open for them and closed it once the three of them were inside. "Your items are over there. When you are finished changing, please knock." He left.

Lillian gazed around. They were in some sort of service room. It was small, like a widened hallway. Across from the door there was a table with four chairs around it. Her eyes widened.

She whirled around to confront James. "Why is my suitcase here?"

"MI6 has its ways. You need to further disguise yourself. Change you appearance as much as possible." He still had that emotionless tone in his voice, though it seemed warmer when he was speaking with her. He strode over to his suitcase, opened it, and pulled out a white shirt and black suit. Lillian reluctantly followed. She dug around in her suitcase until she found a white knee-length skirt and a red buttoned blouse. If James was dressing up, she might as well too.

"The restroom is over there," he pointed to the right. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

* * *

When she had finished changing, James knocked on the door. The counter man opened it and slipped inside. "Okay, those two men are in Concourse C, Terminal 41." He opened a door on the left that led to a hallway. "I can get you close, but you will need to ask the people at the boarding counter to assist you."

After walking for a reasonable time, the man stopped in front of a door. "Please go quickly or you will miss your flight." He opened it and shoved them out of the hall.

The two of them stood quietly, holding their coats, inside of a janitors' closet. Lillian felt James staring at her. "Let's go," she whispered, panicking silently. He opened the door. They stepped out into another hallway. People bustled up and down it. They were in the airport. The ends of the security lines were to the left. Travelers bustled about, putting on shoes and picking up scanned carry-ons. James lightly gripped Lillian's arm and walked very quickly toward Concourse C. They shoved their way through indignant travelers. James' face was completely unreadable.

Terminal 41 was easy enough to find. Lillian gazed, horrified, at the overflowing seating section. People were everywhere, standing, on the floor, and lucky folks had grabbed the chairs. James seemed to ignore them all as he pulled her lightly to the counter. An attractive dark-haired woman was in charge of the counter. James stared at her. They reached the counter and she smiled sweetly at him. "Are you boarding this flight, sir?" she asked him. His lips curled into a smile.

"I actually have a question for you..." He paused to reach into his suit coat for a picture. "Have you seen either of these men? I'm afraid we," he gestured to Lillian, "were separated from them." The woman delicately took the pictures from James. "I am this man's brother, and Lily here is his fiancee."

"They just boarded, sir," she replied. "The plane is headed for Moscow, correct?"

He smiled charmingly at her. "Of course." Lillian's glare stabbed his back repeatedly. The nerve this James Bond had!

The woman pulled up something on her computer. She frowned and picked up the counter telephone. She dialed rapidly.

"Sir, ma'am, I am afraid that the plane your relatives on is headed down the runway right now," she informed them. Lillian stared at her in horror. "Strangely, the pilot never even contacted us to ask for a final boarding call." She sighed and picked up the phone again. "Paging all British Airways customers scheduled for flight number 866. If you have not yet boarded, please report to the counter." She glanced at the two of them. James still had that charming smile plastered on, but Lillian was positive that she looked like she was about to faint. The woman's eyes flitted up to James. "We're going to put you on another plane as soon as possible. Until then, make yourselves comfortable." People who had missed the flight to Moscow were now roaming toward the counter.

James pulled Lillian toward an ice cream store. "You need to eat," he murmured. She shuddered involuntarily at his tone. He still had that charming feel about him. She glared viciously at him.

"You are a pompous ass!" she snapped, yanking her arm out of his grip. His expression remained passive, yet she almost detect a smirk. "Now I know why M told you to watch yourself! You think you can have any woman you want! What are we to you, disposable pleasures with no emotions or values whatsoever?! You are disgusting and sick, and I am not going to put up with you any longer!" She stared him straight in the bright blue eyes.

"If you want to live, you need to stay with me, unfortunately," He replied, staring right back. She bit her lip to prevent any silly actions. After about 45 seconds of staring, she finally turned away, disgruntled.

"How did you get that picture?" she demanded weakly. He shrugged.

"They placed it in my suitcase."

"How are we supposed to get on that plane without boarding passes?"

"They'll be coming in our carry-ons," he replied.

"We don't have any carry-ons," Lillian snapped. "We only have our coats, and I have my purse." James' lips twitched.

"They're being delivered. In fact... here they are now." Lillian followed his gaze to a man dressed in a casual black t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. His hair was pitch black, and he wore sunglasses. He was carrying a black duffel bag and an expensive looking briefcase. He hurriedly approached them as they waited in line for ice cream. He dropped the briefcase and nodded at Lillian before shaking James' hand vigorously. He was gone before anyone could say anything.

"You people are strange," she muttered. They finally reached the counter, and James ordered for her. She silently took the cone he handed her and licked it boredly. After he had paid, they headed back to the terminal. Lillian managed to snatch two seats while James walked up to the counter to ask about the new flight to Russia. As he returned, Lillian crossed her arms.

"I do not want to go to Russia."

"Do you want to find Eric?" Bond asked. She stared straight ahead.

"Let's put it this way... I do not want to go to Russia with _you_."

"You're being incredibly difficult. Why can't you put up with me for a few days?"

"I have a respectable job, an apartment, and other things that I need to attend to. I can't be running around the globe with some," she glanced at him, "secret agent man. Find Eric without me. At least I know that I would be alive when you get him back."

James simply looked at her. After a few seconds, she calmed down and rested her head in her hands. "You will live. You're with a double-oh status agent, and I am sure that M will send reinforcements. MI6 will take care of you job and apartment. Now let's just calm down. We can go shopping, visit a restaurant, or just sit here." He placed his hand on her back and rubbed warm, calming circles on her skin. Lillian sighed.

"Well... seeing as it's winter, and we're headed to Russia, I am going to need a warmer coat..."


	4. Welcome to Moscow

**A/N:** Bonding time! No pun intended. When you get to the dreaming part, I'm really sorry, it was much better, but when I went to save it, this error screen flashed up and said I wasn't logged in. When I went back to continue, the whole dreaming part was gone. So I'm sorry if it sucks now, that's why.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Bond or anything else.

* * *

Lillian wobbled down the aisle of the plane as they exited to Moscow's airport. James was in front of her, leading the way. Over the flight, she had mostly slept while James had downed a few vodka martinis.

They slowly walked through the airport. It was close to dinner time now, but the two weren't thinking of food. As they reached the baggage claim, James stopped her and pulled out his phone. "We need a hotel room," he stated. Lillian sighed.

"I'm not going to share a bed with you," she warned. He flashed her a minuscule smile.

"Of course not. I have a place picked out, but I sill need to call and make a reservation." He dialed and waited. The man at the desk answered in Russian, and Bond boredly asked for English. Lillian zoned out.

She and Eric had gone out for an afternoon together of lunch and shopping. Thinking of how much they had laughed made her chest constrict. His smiling blue eyes caused her heart to twist. She remembered him pulling her down the street, laughing and holding her hand. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Would she ever see him again? Lillian bit her lip and quickly brushed away the puddle of water forming in her eyes. She needed to look strong. When James barked "What? Well, why not?" she jumped. "Fine. Yes, I will take it. We will be checking in within the next thirty minutes."

Lillian looked quizzically at him as he finished the conversation. James hung up and sighed. "The bags are coming." Lillian peered at his face and tried to decipher his mask, but she could not tell how he was feeling.

The two of them hauled their suitcases off the belt and pulled them toward the exit. "So what was wrong with the hotel room?" Lillian asked tentatively. Bond sighed.

"The only rooms at our level they have available are only one bedroom. I made sure that ours has a comfortable couch."

Lillian groaned inwardly. Fantastic. "Well, we can rotate for who gets the bed and who gets the couch, I suppose." Bond eyed her curiously.

"You should have the room."

"No, I actually enjoy sleeping on the couch. We will share."

James led her to a parking lot filled with enough expensive cars that it was probably worth more than all the other car lots combined. He wandered through, looking for a specific one. When he reached a luxurious BMW, he pulled keys out of his pocket and popped the trunk. Lillian knew better than to ask.

James lifted their suitcases in and slammed the trunk closed. He opened her door for her before sliding into the driver's seat.

Whatever Lillian had been expecting about the hotel paled in comparison to reality. She should have expected James to rent an expensive room, but the massive building they parked in front of was incredible. As they walked inside, Lillian could feel her jaw begin to drop. Glossy marble floors. Warm yellow lighting from a huge crystal chandelier. The reception area was in front of a huge set of stairs. It wasn't a full flight, but at the landing, three separate staircases took visitors upward. A circular desk sat in the middle of the floor. Sitting areas were on the right and left. Also to the right and left were hallways that presumably led to rooms.

James checked in while Lillian observed the surroundings. A few people were wandering around. She briefly considered the possibility of James making up the story about their room. Unlikely, she decided. He returned with their keys. "Ready to see our suite?" he asked. The charm was on again. Lillian really hoped that he was just pretending for their cover.

Their suite was huge. Lillian gaped at the interior. It was larger than her apartment. There was a sitting area, the doors to the bedroom and bathroom on the left, and a kitchenette on the right.

"We have a balcony?" she asked excitedly. James nodded. Lillian smiled. Looking around she spied something else. "We have a _bar_? Why on earth do we need a bar, James?" she snapped. He grinned.

"_We _don't need a bar. I need a bar."

Lillian rolled her eyes. "Let's change and find some dinner."

* * *

Pain. All over. Fear, too. It was so rare for him to experience fear now. But for her, anything was possible.

He stumbled over to where she was trapped. An old elevator, about to collapse. He grabbed the iron bars and began to pull the doors open. His eyes met hers. She wordlessly reached over and turned the key in the lock. He felt shock slide over his face. "I'm sorry, James." _Leave me alone. I deserve to die for what I've done to you._

_No._

When the building began to further collapse, her scream brought him to his senses. The elevator plunged downward into the water. Without thinking, he dove in after her. Cold, swirling, wet. He swum downward powerfully. _No, no._

He grabbed at the bars again, screaming, shaking them. She turned around to face him, her expression curious and broken.

_Why are you still here?_

She swam over to meet him, and gently caressed his cheek. _I love you James._

Then she drifted backward slowly. She burst into silent sobs as her back hit the bars. Air exploded from her lungs and he screamed again. _No, no, no!_

He pulled, rattled, and banged the bars with all his might. He needed her. He reached for her, still screaming silently. _V__esper._

James shot up, breathing heavily. The sheets around him were soaked with sweat. It took him a moment to fully realize that he had been dreaming. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested him head on them. Vesper silently crying, huge bubbles emerging from her mouth, hung in his vision.

James hated sleep. While he was conscious he could control his mind. When he drifted off, he was at the mercy of his brain. The dreams of Vesper had haunted him for months. Most of them were this scene. Others were of the pleasant moments they spent together. He hated them all.

His feet hit the cold stone floor. The dream flashed over his eyes again. He stumbled out of the room. He clumsily made his way to the bar. _Vesper._ Yes. He would have that to drink.

Lillian was out on the couch. He had not told her the whole truth about their room. He requested the bar to cure the nightmares. The hotel had run out of suites that had two beds and a bar. He shakily poured the liquor into a glass. Some slopped onto the bar. He didn't bother with the lemon. James threw his head back and drank.

Soon it would kick in... soon he could go back to bed and experience a dreamless sleep... He set the empty glass down with a loud clunk. He swore, then poured himself another drink.

Lillian must have heard, because she inhaled deeply before lifting her head off the pillow. Her sleepy eyes gazed around. "James? Is that you?"

He rubbed his forehead and drank deeply. "Yes." She frowned and slowly sat up. James poured himself a third glass as she plodded over to the bar.

"What are you doing? It's 3:45," she asked, her eyes boring into his face. He shifted to look at her.

"I'm having a drink."

She frowned. "You look horrible, James." She paused, then took the glass from him and sat down on a stool. "Talk. Were you dreaming?"

He sat, looking at her. James pondered whether to tell her or not. Eventually, his increasingly muddled brain prodded him to. "Yes."

"James, please talk. I want to make you feel better."

He sighed. A wonderful fog was clouding his mind. "About... Vesper." She simply sat and watched him. "I... can't stop dreaming about her." He found himself explaining everything to her.

When he finished, Lillian thought for a moment. "She died because she couldn't live with the fact that she betrayed you. She gave them the money, hoping to walk back to you unharmed. She gave them the money in the bargain to let you live, James." He rubbed his temples.

"I could have helped her... saved her... run away... but she wouldn't let me. She did not understand."

Lillian thought for a moment. "Sometimes our actions are not our own. Maybe Vesper was just a bridge into something better. Maybe she was meant to teach you something."

"Don't trust anyone."

"Yes... But maybe... maybe she was supposed to teach you how to truly love. Maybe you learned how to grieve from her, James. Maybe... maybe she taught you how to be human."

James stared at her, wanting to believe what she said. His head nodded in agreement.

"James... I want you to know that I will never intentionally harm you. I don't know you very well, and i'm not always sure about the motives behind your actions, but you've been so kind to me. You could have left me in the street to die. You could have dropped me off at my apartment to be abducted. Instead, you pulled me along with you and convinced your M to let me stay. I am so greatful."

She looked down and swirled the liquor around in the glass. He smiled. "Why don't I refrain from telling you important information? That would keep you from damaging me." A smile flicked across her lips.

"That works too."

She stretched and slipped off the stool. "I'll see you in the morning, James."

His sleep was pure and dreamless the rest of the night.


	5. A Dangerous Breakfast

Lillian woke up and panicked. _Where am I?_ She frantically looked around, and the events of the day before flooded back. Remembering the late night conversation with James, she turned to the bedroom. The door was shut and no sound filtered through. She stood slowly and walked over to the large glass doors that led to the balcony. Dawn was just breaking over the city. It was frigid outside, and Lillian had no desire to leave the suite. She plodded back to the couch and began her morning routine.

She was a black belt in taekwondo, and every morning she stretched. Lillian needed the flexibility gained by stretching.

James opened the door to the bedroom in the middle of Lillian's stretch routine. He stood and watched her for a few minutes as she finished.

"Want to teach me how to become that flexible?" he asked, a smirking slightly. She flashed him a small smile before walking to the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat?" she asked, poking her head into the fridge. James joined her. They groaned. "I knew we forgot something," Lillian grumbled. The fridge was empty. They had never gone to the store.

"I'll take you out," James told her, striding over to the bar. Lillian frowned, but walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. James smiled as the lock clicked.

She changed into a very warm and bulky sweater that had somehow found its way into her suitcase. It was soft and warm and the maroon went well with a pair of leg warmers she had... She slipped into a pair of dark skinny jeans and pulled the leg warmers up to her knees over them. She found a thin pair of socks and slipped into some black flats with bows on them. Her heavy, brown winter coat went over the sweater. She trotted to the mirror and swept the upper half of her wavy golden hair into a ponytail. She fitted a black headband with a bow on top of her hair. She stared at her reflection and winced, hoping that she and James would not need to run.

As she walked out of the bedroom, she found James at the bar. "What are you doing?" she cried, horrified that he was drinking. He smirked and took a sip of his vodka martini.

"It's a classic Russian breakfast. Vodka," he replied, looking at her, amused. Lillian rolled her eyes.

"Hurry up or I'll be the one driving to get us some substantial breakfast," she snapped, but couldn't hide her smile. James dumped the rest of the martini down his throat before leading her out of the suite.

* * *

The two of them sat across from each other in a small Russian cafe, staring out the window. James ate quickly and kept his eyes on the street. Lillian ate much slower, trying not to appear suspicious.

"Are you done with your eggs yet?" he asked, staring intently out the window. Lillian scoffed at him.

"I still have one left. Maybe if you weren't so engrossed in the girls walking by you would notice," she sniffed. James' eyes flicked over hers.

"As captivating as those girls are, I'm watching our car."

Lillian glanced out the window. "Oh, my - who is that, James?!" she hissed frantically. A man was leaning on their BMW. He shrugged. "What are we going to do?" she whispered, terrified. He stared at her.

"Well, first of all, we're not driving home. We shouldn't have driven here in the first place. It's too easy to track."

"How do they even know we're here?" she asked, her eyes frightened. He shrugged. His icy blue eyes narrowed as he glanced out the window.

"Forget the egg, Lillian." He pulled out his wallet and threw money on the table. "He's walking this way." Her fork clattered on to her plate.

"James, I'm going to be sick," she whimpered. He jumped up and grabbed her hand. The people at the next table stared at them.

"We're going out the back door," he muttered, and began to walk quickly toward the kitchen. Lillian glanced back out the window over her shoulder.

"He's getting closer," she yelped. James pulled her into a run. The two of them smashed through the kitchen door. People were shouting in Russian as James yanked Lillian towards where a back door should be. A muffled gunshot rang through the building. As the kitchen door flew open, they could hear people screaming.

"James!" Lillian shrieked. He pulled her towards the back wall. "Open the door, you bloody idiot!" she yelled. He shoved her outside and grabbed a steak knife from a counter before following. "Now what?" she asked, panting and looking around frantically. They were in an employee parking lot framed by a small forest. A dark blob shifted in the trees. "James, I think someone's covering back here," she hissed. She jerked her head towards the trees. His eyes widened.

The door exploded open behind them. Lillian screamed. The man had a gun, and he had aparently kicked open the door. James flew at him and began throwing punches. A large arm snaked around Lillian's neck. The other man had run out from the trees. She kicked and dragged her feet as he pulled her backwards. His arm crushed her throat. She turned her head so that her neck was in the crook of his elbow. She planted her feet and threw all of her weight into the thick body behind her. As her hip collided with him, he flew off his feet. She grabbed his arm and yanked him over her head. The perfectly executed flip. The man grunted as he hit the ground, and she dropped to her knees. One dug into his lower back while the other rested on the pavement. She wrestled his arms back with one hand with the other grabbed the gun from his belt. Behind her, the other man slammed James into the wall of the cafe. Lillian fought back her fear and jumped up, pointing the gun at the man on the ground.

"Don't move," she snarled loudly. She heard James yell in pain, but she gritted her teeth and stared at the man on the ground who seemed frozen with fear. A small click resonated from behind her.

"I should say the same for you," a deep, accented voice replied. Lillian turned her head. The other man towered over her, his gun aiming right at her head. She looked back at the man on the ground. He was smirking. She took a deep breath, lifted her left leg, and drove it between the standing man's legs. His howl of pain and a clatter informed her that he dropped the gun. She wheeled around and kicked him in the head, sending him tumbling backward. The other man scuffled behind her. She turned to point the gun at him, only to find Bond yanking him to his feet.

"I've got him. Watch the other one," he gasped. Lillian nodded. The man she had kicked twice was curled up in a ball. Her heart twinged. _If you hadn't kicked him he would have killed you_, she thought. "We need duct tape," James said loudly, knocking the thoughts from her head. She winced at him. Blood was dripping from his nose, a bruise was forming on his left cheek, and he moved like he hurt all over. Lillian nodded and opened the door to the restaurant. A kitchen worker bumped into her as she stepped inside. The woman glared at Lillian as she shut the door.

"Do you have tape?" Lillian asked clearly, not sure if the woman could speak English. The woman stared at her. "Tape," Lillian repeated, praying that the woman knew what tape was. The lady frowned for a moment before holding up a finger and walking off. She returned with an older, disgruntled man.

"What do you want?" he asked in heavily accented English.

"Tape," Lillian repeated again. The man nodded.

"Strong or weak?" he asked.

"Very strong," she replied. He nodded again and walked to the other end of the kitchen. He returned with a roll of heavy duty duct tape. Lillian broke into a smile. "Thank you!" she sighed, and shook his hand. The man looked slightly less angry as she returned to James.

When both men's arms and legs were taped, James propped them up against the building. He calmly held the gun at them. "You're going to tell me who you work for."

"Don't you already know?" one man grunted. James clicked the safety off. "Well, you followed him here, if that is the answer you want," he grumbled.

"You mean Quake, correct?" Lillian interjected, squatting next to James. The man scoffed.

"Call him what you want."

"Why does he want Eric?" she quickly asked. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Actually, I think you have a small idea. If you know the man, you know he is a software engineer."

"Are they still in Russia?" James asked, pointing the barrel of the gun between the man's eyes.

"Yes," the other man shot in. "But they leave tonight."

"You have a weak stomach," the first man sneered. "You can't bare to watch him blow off my head. Hold you tongue. I doubt he would shoot me to begin with." A loud bang echoed off the building as James pulled the trigger. The men's eyes widened in fear as they glimpsed the crater the bullet had blown off the brick, an inch from the first man's head.

"I think I will be the judge of whether or not to shoot," James answered coolly. "Though I think you might have an idea. If you know me, you know I enjoy a good game of target practice."

"Fine," the first man snapped. "They leave for Australia."

"Where are they now?" Lillian demanded.

"In the city."

"Thank you," James replied, standing up quickly. He yanked Lillian to her feet. "We'll see you around. Hopefully you don't mind if we borrow your guns?" He handed the second gun to Lillian who stared at it with disgust. "Let's go."

He slapped duct tape over the mouths of the men, and led Lillian to the front of the cafe.


End file.
